Innocuous Words
by Katt9966
Summary: Danny keeps a secret. Episode tag for "Cherrypoppers".


Title- Innocuous Words

Author- Katt

E-mail- PG-13

Feedback- Like it or loathe it let me know

Archive- Archived at the Shield Fanfiction Archive

Disclaimer- I don't own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX

Innocuous Words

On their own they were just five little innocuous words – _"When I was a kid…"_ Even with the sentence finished they were perfectly innocent – _"When I was a kid I loved to climb trees""When I was a kid I went to Disneyland""When I was a kid I wanted to be a cop when I grew up"_. However, those were Danny's words, her sentences, her childhood. When Dutch had said those words they had an altogether darker meaning.

They were no longer just five little innocuous words, they became the precursor to a confession, they heralded an uncomfortable and tragic admission, one, that to her shame, Danny hadn't wanted to hear. When she'd heard the words her mind had galloped on ahead and finished the sentence for him. It had felt as if someone had punched her in the stomach. She wasn't sure if she went pale, but she certainly felt as if all the colour had drained from her face. She'd been relieved when he hadn't finished that sentence. She hadn't wanted to hear something so horrific, but as she'd watched him turn away, the defeated stoop to his shoulders, she hadn't been able to let him walk away alone either. So an invitation for a grilled cheese, and an hours worth of chit-chat about the upcoming sergeants exam, and Danny had tried to convince herself that she had done her duty as a friend.

Unable to sleep that night, tossing and turning, those words echoing through her head, _"When I was a kid…, When I was a kid…, When I was a kid…". _ Maybe she should've said something, maybe she should've asked, maybe she should've given Dutch the opportunity to tell someone. Instead she'd thought about herself, she hadn't wanted to know. That wasn't quite true though, Danny had to acknowledge. After all how do you ask without sounding like a voyeur, a ghoul? Maybe it is best not to pry. If someone has a handle on things, if they don't want to talk, then what right does anyone have to pick at the scab until the wound becomes a running sore.

The words wouldn't leave her alone though. She'd think they were gone, and then she'd see him, and there they'd be echoing in her head. She began to watch what she said around him, guarding her words, afraid to say something careless that would stir up unwanted memories for him. In the break room when the guys would be chatting, being crude, telling tasteless jokes, innuendo, she'd find herself glancing at him, looking for something on his face, an indication that somewhere inside he hurt. She never saw one though, the façade remained intact. His behaviour towards her never changed. He spoke to her just the same, smiled when he saw her, never avoided her, it was as if it had never happened, as if those words had never been uttered.

In a slightly surreal way she wondered sometimes if the words had been said, because surely if they had then something would be different. Wouldn't something between them be different, shouldn't it be? She would wonder if maybe she dreamt it, maybe she'd misheard him, because he couldn't say that and then behave as if nothing had happened. Surely he couldn't expect her to do nothing, behave no differently towards him?

Well, it seemed that Dutch knew her better than she knew herself, because that was exactly what she did. She considered telling, seeking advice from…somewhere. An evening spent surfing the net had left her knowing more about the survivors of childhood abuse, but still in a quandary as to what she should do. She considered having a quiet word with Claudette, after all she was his partner, she'd want to know, she'd be trusted by him, maybe he could open up to her. In reality though Danny knew that all she wanted to do was pass the buck, hand the knowledge, the responsibility over to someone else. She didn't though, something in those words, in the quiet way he'd said them, made her feel they were a secret, a trust that she shouldn't betray.

Selfishly she wished he'd never uttered those five little innocuous words. She didn't want this; she didn't want the knowledge there in her head, waiting to leap out at her at any moment. She'd be happy, thinking about work, about what she was going to do that evening, and suddenly there it would be in her mind, the look on his face, the cool air on her skin, the sound of his voice, the words, that feeling of being sucker punched. The realisation that these things didn't just happen to other people, to victims – they happened to people you knew, to friends. Out there in the darkness, behind closed doors, they were still happening, a canker, a poison, that corrupted all it touched, that meant a whole new generation would grow up to one day utter the words _"When I was a kid…"_


End file.
